From Alexanderia to Islamabad – A Mercenary's Tale of Buns, Bullets, and Betrayal

By: Nuradeen, Loyal Mercenary (Until the Bread Runs Out)

Salam, Peace, and Pew Pew to All!

For two whole days and two whole nights, I remained in lockdown mode inside my dusty inn room in Alexandria, surviving only on Q1 bread — the kind of bread that feels like it was designed by engineers, not bakers.

Outside, the battle between the revolutionaries and the USA raged on like a loud neighbor’s TV you can’t turn off. But on the dawn of the third day, silence.

I peeked through the wooden slats of my window and there it was — the USA flag still flying on the city hall.

The revolution failed.

I sighed, packed my things, and with my faithful hand cart, I dashed out of the city. It was time to return to my tranquil farm in Arar, away from bullets and political drama.

Until....

While passing the USA army checkpoint, I overheard a group of soldiers chatting,

“Yo, WET just declared war on China — they’re hitting through Pakistan. Gonna smash Islamabad next.”

My ears perked up.

War? In the mountains?

All my life I’ve fought in the desert. Heat, sand, dehydration — those are my uncles. But forest? Hills? Misty mountain tactical chaos?

That’s a challenge I couldn’t resist.

I opened my map, squinted at the forests of Islamabad, and whispered to myself:

“Looks like we’re taking the scenic route.”

To Islamabad!

After several days of dusty travel, I arrived to find WET forces led by the Germans already occupying two-thirds of the city.

But me? I like the underdog role.

So I snuck past German check points with my empty cart like a suspicious IKEA delivery guy and made it to the Chinese defense line.

After I managed to slip through the Germans, I saw a Chinese recon unit. I approached a Chinese recon unit and introduced myself,

“Hi, I’m Nuradeen. Saudi. Farmer. Mercenary. I brought no supplies, but I come with determination and minor delusions of grandeur.”

They blinked, looked at each other, and said:

“Sure. We’re desperate.”

They offered me Q2 halal mutton steamed buns.

After weeks of Q1 bread, I nearly cried. I ate the first bun like it was a divine offering.

Then they handed me an old AK-47, two magazines, and a mission:

“Go to the Family Mart on the city’s edge. Hold the line. Reinforcements coming.”

With honor (and a slightly full belly), I rushed to Family Mart only to discover it had already been looted — no Q4 soba, not even a Q1 instant noodle cup.

Still, an order is an order.

So I built a barricade using broken shelves and my trusty cart, and waited.

Contact at 300 Meters

Soon, I saw movement — German troops advancing, unaware of my presence.

When they reached 150 meters, perfect AK range, I opened fire.

The first four dropped. The rest scattered for cover.

At first, I was untouchable as they couldn’t locate me.

But after a few minutes, they zeroed in on my position and the bullets came like unpaid bills — fast and never-ending.

I returned fire from my improvised fortress.

But after 30 minutes… no Chinese reinforcements. Just me, my AK, my trusted hand cart and a growing suspicion.

It Was a Setup.

I realized...

They sent me as a rear guard to slow down the Germans while they retreated.

I wasn’t angry.

I’m a mercenary after all. Expendable, forgettable, and slightly crispy from gunpowder residue.

Refusing to become just another bullet-point in history, I pulled my hand cart and slipped away while the Germans were still busy shooting at my abandoned barricade.

I climbed into the nearby mountains and eventually reached a safe point.

After catching my breath and questioning all my life decisions, I looked at my map and saw Lahore, still under Chinese control.

And so…

The Journey Continues.

To Lahore I go.

With one bullet left, no backup, and only one steamed bun left in my pocket.

Stay tuned for the next issue of The Nuradeen Humour — where chaos follows, but the cart always rolls on.

Signed,
Nuradeen
Survivor of Supermarkets. Defender of Desert Dough.
Will Travel for Grain (and Halal Snacks).

P.S:- Donations are always welcome — inspiration may be free, but dragging a hand cart across deserts, dodging bullets, and taste-testing Q1 bread in hostile territories… isn’t exactly cheap.